Dark December
by SKH
Summary: Danger befalls young Dick Grayson on a school ski trip.
1. Part 1

* * *

©December 2003  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Dick Grayson (Robin); Bruce Wayne (Batman)  
Time Frame: Dick is 14  
Disclaimer: Characters herein are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner/AOL. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these trademarked characters. Not to be archived without permission.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@cranky-dog.com  


* * *

**_Dark December _**

By SKH

* * *

  
**Part One**

It was Friday afternoon, and at the bell signaling the end of fifth period, Dick Grayson shoved his physical science book into his backpack. Instead of heading upstairs for his last class of the day, Dick made his way through the halls of the Gotham Academy to the school's auditorium.

"Hey, Dick! Wait up!"

Dick slowed and turned to see one of his classmates, Martin Van Eyke, hurrying to catch up with him. "C'mon, Marty," Dick called out. "We have Assembly in a couple of minutes."

Slender and pale blond, Marty was Dick's height, which was a little shorter than most of the boys in the eighth grade. Grinning, he caught up with Dick. "I know! It's about the class ski trip! I've had my skis packed for a week! I'm SO ready for winter break."

"Geez, Marty, show some enthusiasm," Dick deadpanned.

"Well, aren't you excited?" the other boy asked as they entered the auditorium.

It wasn't that Dick didn't enjoy skiing. His guardian, Bruce Wayne, had taken him on ski trips at least a couple of times a year since Dick had come to live at Wayne Manor five years earlier. Those trips had been more about instruction and gaining new athletic skills than fun. But to Dick, the choice between going on the class trip and swinging over the rooftops of Gotham City and battling criminals as the partner of Gotham's Dark Knight was a no-brainer. 

At 14, Dick had been the Batman's partner, Robin for the past three years and had been training for the role from the age of nine. Every night on patrol brought thrill and adventure for the young teen. Problem was, Dick wasn't being given a choice about the trip.

"Marty, skiing and boarding during the day is fine, but it's gonna be pretty boring during the nights," said Dick as he gently pushed his companion toward a seat in the back row.

"Four nights away from our parents is NOT boring. It's going to be great, Dick," Marty argued.

Dick sat and slouched down into his seat. It was going to be *really* boring compared to what he'd rather be doing. But Alfred, Wayne Manor's major-domo and his and Bruce's caretaker, thought it was a good idea for Dick to socialize more with his schoolmates, and Bruce had already scheduled a business trip to Japan while Dick would be away.

Trying to keep an open mind, Dick listened to the Headmaster give the final details about the trip that was to begin the next day, including the announcement that Bruce Wayne was flying the boys to Vermont on a Wayne Corp jet. Dick slouched even lower as heads turned to look at him.

* * *

After school, Dick tried again to convince Alfred that he'd be a lot happier not going on the class trip. Alfred wouldn't budge, and Dick had sat sullen and quiet for the rest of the ride home from school. As soon as they arrived at Wayne Manor, Dick excused himself to go downstairs to the Batcave. He needed a good workout in the gym, if only to vent his frustration.

When Bruce Wayne entered the Batcave, he found his ward practicing punches and kicks on the heavy punching bag. Preparing for his own workout, Bruce taped his hands and watched the boy with the keen eye of teacher and trainer, pleased with Dick's growing strength and combat skills. Dick gave the heavy bag a final combination of kicks before pausing to face his mentor.

"Let me warm up for a few minutes and we'll spar," said Bruce.

With a nod and a smile, Dick stepped away and reached for a towel to wipe his sweaty face.

Before long, the partners were on the practice mats, engaged in a vigorous sparring match of combined forms of martial arts. Blocking a series of blows from his ward, Bruce spoke to the boy. "Alfred tells me you're still complaining about the trip." He dropped to the ground with a sweeping kick in an attempt to take Dick down.

Dick responded with a side spring and flip, and then bounced on the balls of his feet, prepared for another offensive rush from Bruce. "I just think it's a waste of time. I'd rather bust heads in Crime Alley than hang out with a bunch of spoiled rubes."

On the offensive, Bruce advanced on his able student with a combination of kicks and punches. Dick leaped up, twisting in the air above Bruce's head. Not to be outdone, Bruce leaped a split second later, hooking an arm around the boy's waist and rolling him over his hip as he spun and landed. He followed through, throwing Dick to the mat with a thud.

"Not bad aerial work, Bruce," Dick praised. As he hopped to his feet, Dick's smile faded. "Why can't I stay here? Or better yet, why can't I go work with the Teen Titans?" he asked.

"No Teen Titans while I'm out of town, Dick," Bruce said, pointing authoritatively at Dick. He walked to a bench at the end of the sparring floor and grabbed two towels, tossing one at Dick. "I'm out-voted on this one, chum," he said, wiping the perspiration from his face. "Alfred and Dr. Thompkins think it's a good idea, and I'm afraid I have to go along with their recommendation. Just go, and when you come back, we'll all have a nice Christmas." At Dick's disappointed expression, Bruce added, "If it makes you feel any better, they used to gang up on me when I was your age."

"And look how *you* turned out," Dick shot back, walking past his mentor on the way to the stairs.

Bruce's big hand clamped down on Dick's shoulder. "Do I have to *order* you to have fun at something *normal*?" he scolded affectionately. "Get cleaned up for dinner. And if you hurry up and pack tonight, we can go on a short patrol."

* * *

By late-afternoon on Saturday, the 8th grade class from Gotham Academy was nearing the end of a two-hour bus ride from Burlington, Vermont to the Slopes Resort at Jay Peak. They'd flown from Gotham City to Burlington on one of Bruce Wayne's most spacious corporate jets before boarding the bus to the resort.

Dick closed his eyes and tried to recall his days of traveling with the Haly Brothers Circus with his aerialist parents. Even the animal train cars were quieter than the bus.

"Hey, wake up! We're here!" Marty shook Dick's shoulder vigorously. Dick opened his eyes and leaned forward, peering around his seatmate to look out the bus window at the snowy landscape. The bus made its way up a long drive to the front of a picturesque, grand lodge made of timber and stone. 

Under the direction of ten Gotham Academy teacher-chaperones, the avalanche of boys poured out of the bus and into the check-in foyer. Dick pulled his carry-on bag out from under the seat in front of him and followed everyone off the bus.

The teachers gave out the room assignments, getting a head-count of their charges. With key cards and lodge maps in hand, the troupe of students was dismissed with their instructions on when and where to meet for dinner. For the next couple of hours they were free to wander about the lodge and grounds, but because of the late hour of the day and the waning sunlight, they were to wait until the next morning to hit the slopes.

Dick walked into the main lobby, admiring the immensity of the room, with its vaulted ceilings and carved timber beams. There was a huge stone fireplace at the end of the room surrounded by comfortable chairs and sofas. A tall, elaborately decorated Christmas tree sparkled in one corner. Floor-to-ceiling picture windows displayed a breathtaking vista of the snow-covered mountains. Jay Peak was the second highest mountain in Vermont, Dick had read, and got more snow than just about anyplace in the country.

Dick sought out his room on the second floor of the three-floor wing of the lodge reserved just for the Academy students. Keying his way into the room, Dick tossed his carry-on bag into a chair and looked around. The room was nice, cozy, and had its own small gas fireplace that ignited with a flip of a wall switch. He checked out the junk food in the mini-bar. Taking a cola from the little refrigerator, Dick sat on the bed and picked up the cordless telephone receiver. Dutifully, he dialed Wayne Manor to report his arrival to Alfred.

"Very timely of you, Master Dick," said Alfred. "I just received word from a representative of your school that the Academy entourage had safely arrived. I hope your spirits are higher than they were this morning, now that you have seen the resort."

"I haven't seen much, Alfred, but it's a nice place. At least we have our own rooms." Dick paused for just a moment. "Is Bruce there, Alfred?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, lad," said Alfred. "He left a few hours ago, not long after you departed. Do you need to speak with him? I can give you his in-flight telephone number."

"Nah, that's okay. Just tell him I got here in one piece when if he calls in." Dick's head turned at a knock at the door. "Hey, I hafta go. Somebody's at the door."

"Have a wonderful time, Master Dick," Alfred said.

"Bye, Alfred." Dick put the phone down and answered the door. It was a bellman.

"Are you Richard Grayson?" The bellman was friendly, young and athletic-looking, with a tousled mop of reddish-blond hair and a spray of freckles on his wind-chapped face.

"That's me," Dick smiled. "Just dump it anywhere."

"Oh, no, dude, there's special racks for your ski and board bags. Let me show you." The bellman, whose nametag read "Gonzo," opened a closet door and put away Dick's two bags of equipment. "Looks like you're stoked, dude. My guess is you've got skis and a couple of boards here."

"Yeah," Dick nodded. "For freeriding and freestyle. I got the freestyle board late last season, so I've only had a chance to try it out once."

"Well, if you're up for it, there's a decent half-pipe here, and if you really want to boost some air, there's a jump, too," Gonzo told Dick. "We got eight inches of powder last night and they're expecting another six tonight. It's gonna be a totally gnarly day on the mountain tomorrow."

"You ski a lot, huh Gonzo?" Dick asked, smiling at the guy's ski lingo. 

"Ski bum and total board-head, dude," the young man replied as he placed Dick's suitcases on folding luggage racks from the closet. "I'm from California, but just moved here to Jay to taste New England pack and powder."

Dick reached into his pocket for tip money and handed Gonzo a twenty-dollar bill, following Alfred's advice to be generous with staff that performed to better than expectation.

"Hey, thanks, dude!" Gonzo exclaimed. "Stay out of the way of the SPORS and keep your eyes peeled for Shred Bettys," he said.

"The whats?" Dick asked.

"Stupid People on Rental Skis and serious ski bunnies!" Gonzo replied, pushing the luggage cart down the corridor.

* * *

Restless from the travel, most of the students headed outside for a look around the grounds. Eventually, a snowball war erupted that lasted until dinnertime. Dick enjoyed the food, and afterwards, he and a couple of guys hung out in the main lobby listening to a guitarist who was playing on a small, corner stage. The boys snickered at cooing couples engaged in après-ski snuggling.

"Hey, look — it's snowing again," Frank Madison pointed out. The boys' attention diverted to the big picture windows. "What're you guys planning to do first?"

"I'm headed up the slopes with my skis first," Marty declared.

"Same here," said Frank. "I thought I'd warm up on the north run and then try out the slalom course. I bet Hauser I could do the slalom course at least five seconds faster than he can." 

"What about you, Dick?" asked Marty.

"I think Hauser will take you," Dick grinned at Frank. The boy slugged Dick in the bicep.

"Smart-ass!" Frank remarked. "Grayson's going to spend all his time on the bunny hill with the tourists."

Dick laughed and rubbed his arm. "Frank, we *are* tourists. Actually, I was thinking about trying out a powder course with my snowboard."

"You should hook up with Chaz Peterson," Marty suggested. "That's his thing, too."

"Guys — GUYS!" Frank whispered loudly. "Incoming."

The boys turned just in time to see a tight, low-cut, generously-filled sweater approach them. "Can I get you fellows something from the bar?" asked a very cute dark-haired waitress.

"Uh, cola," Marty squeaked, his voice breaking noticeably.

"Same here," Frank said to the girl's chest.

Dick forced himself to maintain eye contact with the waitress. "Thanks. I'll take a hot chocolate."

"Great! I'll be back in couple of minutes with your order." The waitress walked away, with three pairs of eyes trained solidly on her tight black slacks.

"Wow," Marty said admiringly.

"No kidding," said Frank. "Did you see those hoot—"

"Yeah, Frank," Dick replied quickly. "Sit back and stop drooling." The guy was worse than Roy Harper, Dick thought. No, fellow Teen Titan Harper — not called Speedy for nothing — would have tried to make a date with the waitress, despite the difference in age. And probably would have succeeded.

"I'm giving her a BIG tip!" Frank grinned.

* * *

Before the waitress took the three boys their drinks, she stopped at another table. She put a schooner of beer down in front of a man with short brown hair and frameless eyeglasses.

"It's him," the girl said quietly to the man. "I recognize him from the picture."

The man said nothing to acknowledge the girl's information. He merely paid for his beer with a five dollar bill — and placed an additional hundred on the girl's tray of drinks.

* * *

_**Glossary:**  
Pack — hard-packed snow on a ski trail/course  
Powder — light, fluffy, unpacked snow  
Freeriding snowboard — for use in powder snow  
Freeriding — an all-round snowboarding style where the rider can ride, carve and jump on any terrain on and off piste  
Piste — maintained, packed snow ski trail/course  
Freestyle snowboard — for aerial tricks  
Half-pipe — a snowboarding arena, a U-shaped bowl where boarders move from one wall to another, doing aerial tricks. _

* * *

tbc in part 2 


	2. Part 2

* * *

©December 2003  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Dick Grayson (Robin); Bruce Wayne (Batman)  
Time Frame: Dick is 14  
Disclaimer: Characters herein are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner/AOL. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these trademarked characters. Not to be archived without permission.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@cranky-dog.com  


* * *

**_Dark December _**

By SKH

* * *

  


**Part Two**

At breakfast the next morning, Dick sought out fellow classmate Chaz Peterson. After a brief conversation, the boys made plans to try out one of the off-piste powder runs with their snowboards.

"My older brother got me into snowboarding off the trail," Chaz commented to Dick as they traveled up the mountain on the open ski lift. "What about you, Grayson?"

"I learned last year," Dick replied as he scanned the slope they'd be boarding. "Bruce and I jumped out of a helicopter to snowboard down a mountain. It was pretty cool."

Chaz looked at Dick. More than a few of the guys at school thought it was weird that Gotham City's billionaire industrialist, Bruce Wayne, had adopted Grayson. They'd heard their parents' cocktail-comments about the questionable propriety of the arrangement, or gossip about Dick's unusual background. 

"Why'd Bruce Wayne adopt you, Grayson?" Chaz asked, giving no thought to tact. 

Dick tightened his grip on his snowboard and fielded the question he'd been asked before.

"He didn't adopt me. He's my legal guardian."

Chaz shrugged. "Okay... so why you?"

Dick could match bluntness with bluntness when it came to the queries from his classmates. "My folks were murdered. So were his. Guess he thought that gave us something in common."

"I forgot about that. Sorry," said Chaz. "Well... does he act like a dad? My folks said Bruce Wayne dates a different girl every night."

Dick's mouth curled tightly at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes betrayed no emotion. "He's not my dad. He told me he'd never try to be. And as for the girls..." Dick's eyes returned to the mountain but his smile softened. "...Maybe a new one every *week*. Every night is stretching it — even for Bruce."

* * *

The boys started down the slope of soft powdery snow below a ridge that was heavy with accumulated snow. There were no more than half a dozen skiers and snowboarders on the run, the first group to go down since the snow had fallen. Smaller and quicker than the adults, Dick and Chaz zipped ahead, cutting through the virgin powder and sending white plumes into the air.

Slicing tandem gouges through the snow, the two classmates descended at the same rate. Dick forgot his resentment in the exhilaration of the moment, enjoying the speed and sting of the frosty air on his face. Spotting a particular grouping of trees coming up, Dick cut sharply to his left.

He launched off the steepest part of a drop-off and went airborne, and spun into a fluid flip and 180-degree rotation. It was elementary for Dick, but this run was just his warm-up anyway. He stuck his landing and out of the corner of his eye saw Chaz tumbling through the snow. Dick pulled up quickly and sliced over to his downed classmate. 

"You okay?" Dick asked, lifting up his amber goggles.

Chaz, dusted white with snow, sat up and checked his boot bindings. "Yeah, soft landing. I didn't see the drop-off until you caught air. How'd *you* know it was there, Grayson? You got x-ray vision or something?" Chaz stood up and bobbed a couple of times, getting settled in his bindings and testing his leg muscles.

Dick chuckled at the comment, savoring the irony behind it. "I scoped out the terrain from the lift," he said to Chaz.

A skier shushed up to the boys and stopped. The man lifted his goggles, checking them out from behind frameless eyeglasses. "You okay, kid?" the man asked Chaz. "It looked like you lost a battle with gravity." The man's eyes moved to Dick, narrowing somewhat. "But *you* kicked gravity in the tail, son. Nice jump."

"I'm fine," Chaz answered. He looked at Dick. "C'mon, Grayson. Let's get downhill." With a couple of hops, Chaz started down. Dick lowered his goggles and took off after Chaz.

* * *

After the downhill run, Chaz abandoned Dick for other company. Dick unlocked his equipment bag from a storage area, got out his freestyle board, and went to the half-pipe course.

The skier with the frameless eyeglasses bought a cup of coffee from a kiosk before returning to his observation of the Grayson kid. The boy swooped down into the bowl-shaped course and back up again, executing stunts of increasing complexity. After a few minutes, the man checked his watch. He turned to go back to the lodge when he collided with a tall young man with strawberry-blond hair. The young man wearing a hotel uniform carried two boxes, and knocked the coffee from the bespectacled man's hand.

"Oh, man! Hey, I'm sorry, sir," Gonzo exclaimed. 

The man shook the spilled coffee from his glove. "No problem, son. My fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," he apologized.

"I can get you another coffee, sir," Gonzo offered. "That's where I was going with these boxes — to the coffee stand."

"That's not necessary," the man said. "I was just headed inside anyway." He left the apologetic hotel employee to go back to the lodge. Minutes later, the man was in his room and out on the balcony, where he could see the half-pipe course in the distance. He punched a number into his cellular phone and lit a cigarette while he waited for the other end to pickup. When it did, he spoke.

"It's confirmed. The boy is here and I haven't identified any security personnel assigned to him. It looks like his only supervision is a handful of teachers from the school....Yes....He's pretty active, athletic — likes to snowboard. I think we can catch him out on the slopes....Yes, I'll maintain observation."

* * *

Dick came in from the half-pipe course, his cheeks bright with chill and exhilaration. After packing up his snowboards, he shouldered his equipment bag and headed inside to thaw out. In his room, Dick changed clothes before heading out to get a late lunch. From the stairway landing, Dick saw the ski-bum bellman from the day before.

"Gonzo!" Dick called out, waving his hand. He caught up with the bellman. "Hey, who's got the best cheeseburger in this joint?"

"Mister Grayson, the air-man!" Gonzo grinned.

"Please. Call me Dick."

"Dickster the Trickster... Dude, I caught your act on the half-pipe. You busted some serious air, dude. Awesome," Gonzo praised.

Dick smiled. "You saw? I've only been at it for a couple of seasons. I don't know that many tricks yet."

Gonzo grinned. "Your lucky day, dude. It's time for my break. I can tell you a couple of moves while I show you where to get your burger. Here's how you do a 720 and nose grab with a tail poke...."

* * *

The snow began falling overnight and was still coming down when Dick awoke. He grabbed a fast breakfast and then hurried into his snow suit. He and Marty met up and headed to the ski lift together. There was six inches of fresh snow on the packed course. The cloud ceiling was so low it obscured the top of the mountain and made the ride on the lift eerily quiet.

By the time Dick and Marty had skied down the mountain it was snowing harder, a windless curtain of white. The boys were laughing and enthusiastic about their run down the slope. After a cup of hot chocolate, they went up the ski lift again. Two gondolas behind them, the man with the frameless eyeglasses followed, sitting alone.

"Three minutes until we reach the top," the man spoke into a walkie talkie. "Get into place and hold for my signal."

* * *

Their downhill run was a blast. Dick was impressed with Marty's skill on skis, especially when the smaller boy zipped ahead of him. The snow was coming down harder now, in fat flakes. This would likely be the last run until the snow slacked off. Dick cut back and forth, spraying the newly fallen snow. The boys were nearly alone on the slope as they reached the main bend in the course. A group of skiers had gone down before them, and they were a couple of minutes ahead of the closest skiers behind them.

Marty made the turn a few seconds before Dick. Dick gave a couple of good pushes with his poles to boost his speed. He was closing the distance between them when he suddenly felt a stinging in his right thigh. He glanced down and there was a second sting. 

Before Dick could register what was happening, his right leg went numb and could not bear his weight. He went down, jettisoning the poles and tucking to try to fall without injury. To Dick's horror, the rest of his body refused to obey and he tumbled wildly. Only the growing limpness in his body and the softness of the new snow kept him from breaking his limbs. Dick slid down the slope, his awareness growing dimmer. His body came to a stop, but Dick was fast losing consciousness. His last clear thought was 'danger.'

Before the boy's limp form stopped sliding through the snow, the ski patrol Ski-Doo and toboggan came bursting out from the tree line, followed by two patrol skiers. The three rescuers quickly immobilized the unconscious teen on a backboard and moved him to the toboggan. Seconds later, the Ski-Doo was motoring back into the trees, just before the next wave of skiers came around the bend.

Marty Van Eyke reached the bottom of the ski run and skidded to a stop. He turned around, expecting Dick to be right on his tail. Except that he wasn't.

"Where's Dick?" Marty murmured to himself.

* * *

tbc in part 3 


	3. Part 3

* * *

©December 2003  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Dick Grayson (Robin); Bruce Wayne (Batman)  
Time Frame: Dick is 14  
Disclaimer: Characters herein are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner/AOL. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these trademarked characters. Not to be archived without permission.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@cranky-dog.com  


* * *

**_Dark December _**

By SKH

* * *

  


**Part Three**

Marty Van Eyke checked his watch again. He'd reached the end of the slope fifteen minutes ago, and Dick still hadn't shown up. Marty looked around and saw one of the Gotham Academy teachers, Mr. Brooks. With one more look up the slope, Marty skied over to the teacher.

"Mr. Brooks! I was skiing with Dick Grayson and we got separated. He should have been down the mountain by now, but he's not. He was right behind me, and then he wasn't!"

The teacher looked at the breathless boy. Brooks recalled Grayson as Bruce Wayne's foster son and a good student in his American History class a couple of years earlier.

"Okay, son," Brooks said to Marty. "Let's ask around and see if anyone else might have seen Dick. Maybe he stopped to talk to someone." Like a girl, the teacher mentally added, knowing how teenaged boys were. "I'll have someone check his room, too."

"Thanks, Mr. Brooks," said Marty. Both teacher and student went about asking fellow students in the immediate area if they'd seen Dick Grayson.

* * *

The Ski-Doo and toboggan came off a maintenance trail near the road. A large, blue, four-wheel-drive pickup truck with a white bed topper was waiting for them. The "rescuers" got off and transferred the immobilized boy into the back of the truck and then abandoned the snowmobile in a roadside ditch.

"Let's go before the roads are closed from the snow," one man yelled. They stowed their equipment next to the unconscious boy, got into the truck, and took off.

Thirty minutes later, the truck pulled off the road and traveled up a narrow driveway. The driveway went a couple hundred yards into the woods, coming to an end at a cabin. The men piled out of the truck and carried the boy into the cabin.

"Put him into the next room," said a man wearing frameless eyeglasses. The man flipped open his cell phone and punched a number. "The package is secure," he said into the phone. "You can proceed with your plan."

* * *

After making an inquiry among many of the Gotham Academy students at the lodge, Marty and Mr. Brooks found that no one had seen Dick return from the mountain. Brooks turned to Marty. "I need you to find Dean Hartwell," Brooks said, referring to the ranking faculty advisor on the trip. Explain to him what's happened and tell him I'm going to the ski patrol office here at the lodge."

* * *

Several members of the ski patrol went up the mountain on snowmobiles to search for the missing student while others rode the lift to ski down from the top. The snow was coming down so heavily that no more skiers were being allowed to go up onto the trails. Within two hours, Dick's discarded skis had been located.

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth pressed a button in the security room at Wayne Manor, admitting the courier service through the main gates. He met the courier at the front door, accepted and signed for a large envelope marked "Wayne Household: Urgent."

Closing the door behind him, Alfred inspected the envelope before taking it into the security room. He ran the envelope through a fluoroscope, and seeing that it contained nothing suspicious, he opened it.

Alfred's eyes widened as he read the single page message inside the envelope. The ringing telephone stirred Alfred from his shock.

"Wayne Manor," he answered crisply, still eyeing the startling missive.

"Mr. Pennyworth, this is Dean Hartwell, with the Gotham Academy. I'm calling from the Slopes resort."

"Master Dick is missing," Alfred blurted out.

"Y-yes, but how did you know?" Hartwell asked with surprise.

"I've just now received a communiqué from his abductors," said Alfred.

"Abductors? We assumed he fell while on the ski slope," Hartwell told Alfred. "The student he was skiing with made it down and Dick did not. The ski patrol instituted a search, but all they have found so far is the boy's skis."

"Dean Hartwell, I strongly suggest you contact the local authorities immediately. I'm afraid I must ring off in order to contact Mr. Wayne."

With shaking fingers, Alfred dialed Bruce's cell phone.

* * *

Dick slowly came to consciousness, realizing he was lying face down on a bed. Memory returned, and he slowly flexed and relaxed his muscles, making sure they answered his commands. What he discovered was that his hands and feet were bound. Dick tried to open his eyes and realized that he was blindfolded, too. Instantly, his training kicked in and he began to register sounds and smells, trying to get a bearing on his situation.

Wherever he was, it wasn't his room at the resort. It didn't smell like room freshener. Dick didn't move or give any indication he was awake. He listened very carefully for indications that anyone else was in the room. What noises he heard seemed to come from outside the room. Dick rolled over on the bed, took a deep breath, and released it. He slid his arms down and slipped his hips, legs, and feet through his bound hands. A second later, Dick was pushing the blindfold away from his eyes.

He was alone in the room, a moderately small bedroom in a house or cabin. Dick saw a window and looked out, seeing only trees and falling snow through the dimming daylight. Quickly, Dick untied his feet and started working on the ropes binding his wrists. In seconds, he was free. Hearing footsteps coming closer to the door, Dick rushed to the window and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Dick grabbed a chair and threw it through the window, smashing the glass to bits. But instead of jumping out the window, Dick hid under the bed as his abductors stormed into his room.

"Dammit! The little bastard's gone!" one of the men shouted.

"He couldn't have gone far. Get outside now and find that kid."

One set of footsteps remained in the room and walked over to the window. From under the bed, Dick could see a pair of boots — small, feminine ones. The boots walked away from the window and out of the room.

After a few seconds, Dick slid out from under the bed. A glance out the window showed two men searching the area on that side of the building. Dick crept closer to the open door and peered through it. He could see down a short hallway to the main room and the open front door. Using all the stealth he'd been trained to employ, Dick crept down the hall, all senses on edge in anticipation of action. When he reached the end of the hall, Dick bolted for the door. All he had to do was to get into the woods and under the cover of the heavy snowfall. Beyond the doorway was a raised porch. Dick calculated how he would vault over the railing, ready to battle his abductors if he couldn't outrun them.

Dick reached the doorway at top speed, ready to spring. As he crossed the threshold he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Before another thought flashed through his head, someone kicked him hard in the chest.

The woman had inspected the broken window in the cabin bedroom and immediately saw that there were no footprints in the snow outside. Suspecting their "guest" had not left at all, she left the room. She opened the front door to the cabin and stepped out onto the porch, out of sight, and waited. Before long, her hunch paid off, and the kid made his break. But she was waiting for him and stopped him with a roundhouse kick to the chest. The boy's feet left the ground and he landed on his back with a loud thud and a breathless shout of pain.

The two men came running to the porch at the sound to find the woman holding the boy at gunpoint.

"Get him up and drug him, you idiots," the woman said.

The men jerked Dick to his feet.

"Who are you?" Dick snarled. "Bruce isn't going to pay you a dime, you know! He doesn't deal with thugs and lowlifes like you!"

The woman walked over to Dick and grabbed his face with one strong hand. Dick glared at her, unable to see her eyes behind her mirrored sunglasses.

"You're going to shut up and go to sleep, little boy," the woman said calmly. "Be quiet and behave, and things will be over soon."

The two men dragged Dick back into the house. He kicked upwards, flipping over the men and out of their arms. Dick grabbed a floor lamp and swung it at them, making contact with one man's head.

Before the second man could reach for Dick, the woman aimed and fired. Stinging heat struck Dick in the neck, and his hands reached for the injury. As he hit the ground, his fingers found and pulled at a dart. The last thing Dick saw before darkness overtook him was the iron faced beauty of the woman looking down on him.

* * *

As Bruce Wayne took the news from Alfred, his expression betrayed none of the fury that was erupting inside him. He made apologies to his corporate hosts and briefly explained to Lucius Fox that a situation had come up with the family that required his immediate return.

As Bruce left the Sagumo corporate office, he phoned his pilot, giving the man instructions to take off immediately for the United States. Bruce's chosen pilots acted on his word alone and knew their jobs well. Discretion was paramount, and they were paid exceptionally well to reinforce the perception that Bruce Wayne was one place when he was actually in another. 

Bruce took a cab to a small warehouse building in Tokyo, owned by an alias of Bruce's. Inside the warehouse, he made his way to a unique platform, stopping only to key in a command on an adjacent console. The Justice League teleporter glowed and shimmered, ferrying its passenger to the other side of the Earth.

* * *

tbc in part 4 


	4. Part 4

* * *

©December 2003  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Dick Grayson (Robin); Bruce Wayne (Batman)  
Time Frame: Dick is 14  
Disclaimer: Characters herein are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner/AOL. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these trademarked characters. Not to be archived without permission.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@cranky-dog.com  


* * *

**_Dark December _**

By SKH

* * *

  
**Part Four**

Bruce Wayne stepped off the JLA teleporter inside the Batcave. Predictably, Alfred was there to greet him. In Alfred's outstretched hand was the letter that had come by courier.

Bruce read the letter, his eyes darkening with anger.

—"The boy will be released unharmed when you remove all Wayne Enterprises interests from Guiana. Publicly announce your withdrawal of all commercial, political, petroleum, mining, and environmental interests from the region. Evidence of your compliance is crucial to the safe return of the boy. Failure to comply within 24 hours will be detrimental to the safety and well-being of the boy."—

Bruce handed the letter back to Alfred and loosened his necktie. "Fingerprints?" Bruce asked.

"None, sir. Spectrographic inspection of the paper yielded no standout elements. The paper is of common origin. The courier company could not identify the sender, who paid in cash."

Bruce rested his hand lightly on Alfred's shoulder. "Thank you, Alfred. Well done." Frowning with concentration, Bruce murmured, "Guiana. Wayne Enterprises won that sealed bid based on our ability to extract and refine mineral ore and petroleum without significant environmental impact."

Bruce wheeled about and headed for the staircase. "Alfred, grab your coat. We're going to Vermont."

During the jet copter flight to Jay Peak, Bruce made inquiries into the somewhat secretive bidding process for the lucrative contract for mineral development in conjunction with the government of Guiana. A well-placed contact confirmed that there were two other bidders, Lascaux International and Althor Mining and Materials.

Bruce knew the CEO of Lascaux, Armand Rainier. Rainier was a dedicated family man and a fair business competitor. Althor, however, was somewhat of a mystery. Bruce made a call to a talented private investigator with whom he'd had previous dealings.

"Bard? Bruce Wayne. I've got an emergency and need some fast footwork. Get me a rundown on Althor Mining and Materials. Call me at this number when you've got an answer...."

* * *

The woman stood over the unconscious boy lying handcuffed on the couch. With a scissors in her gloved hands, she snipped off the lock of Dick's hair that fell across his forehead. She then took a Polaroid photo of the boy. With a black marker, the woman wrote "Comply" across the bottom of the photo. As an afterthought, the woman pushed up one of Dick's sleeves and scraped the end of the scissors across his bare arm, making an angry and bloody laceration. She smeared the blood across the photograph. The woman waved the photo a few times to dry the blood before dropping both the photo and the lock of hair into a manila envelope. Sealing the envelope, she wrote "Bruce Wayne, Urgent" across the front.

The woman handed the envelope to the man in the frameless glasses. "Carson — take this back to the Slopes and plant it where it will be found," the woman ordered. Impressively tall, her blonde hair pulled severely back into a bun, and with eyes veiled by mirrored sunglasses, the woman was authoritative and beautiful. 

"Wayne will no doubt send a private security force to the lodge to confer with law enforcement. Keep your eyes and ears open and report back what you find out."

Carson nodded and headed out the door. 

* * *

Despite the heavy snowfall, the Wayne Enterprises executive jet helicopter landed at the Slopes resort, the canny pilot finding a flat area at the base of the nearest ski run.

Bruce and Alfred exited and rushed inside the lodge, leaving the pilot and co-pilot to secure the aircraft against the weather. They were met by the local sheriff, Dean Hartwell of the Gotham Academy, and the hotel's manager, who ushered everyone into his office.

Gonzo passed the entourage in the corridor on his way to the front lobby. He had heard some of the students talking about Dick's disappearance, and guessed that the large man with the sheriff and hotel manager must be Dick's father. Gonzo was still looking back toward the manager's office when he bumped into Sadie, one of the cocktail waitresses from the lounge. She had just come in from a cigarette break outside, and smelled faintly of smoke.

"Oh, sorry, Sadie," he apologized. "I wasn't looking where—"

"Was that the sheriff?" Sadie asked nervously, pushing her dark hair behind one ear.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, and I think that was the father of the missing kid."

Sadie looked anxiously down the corridor. She was usually pleasant and smiling, but now she looked worried.

"What's wrong," asked Gonzo.

Sadie grabbed his arm and pulled him across the lobby and into the outer lounge of the restrooms. "Gonz... did that kid get lost or did someone snatch him?" Sadie asked.

Gonzo shook his head. "I don't think Dickster is lost. He's a really savvy kid, and skis and boards like a little champ."

Sadie's eyes filled with tears. "Gonzo... I think I might have helped whoever took that boy!"

"How?"

"The other night, the night those kids from the school arrived, a man offered me a hundred dollars to point out that boy," said Sadie. "He had a photograph of him. I thought maybe he was... oh, I don't know, like maybe an investigator or something. It was a hundred bucks, Gonzo. I didn't think there was any harm in it."

* * *

Carson entered the lodge at one of the side wings. He removed his overcoat and shook the snow off of it. He grumbled silently to himself about the difficult drive on the snow-laden roads. There certainly wouldn't be anymore driving until the roads were plowed. Carson pulled the manila envelope out of the inside pocket of the coat, and then folded his top coat over his arm, hiding the envelope underneath it. "Miss M" had given him his orders, and as he walked toward the central area of the lodge, he began scouting for a place to leave the package.

* * *

Inside the manager's office, Bruce couldn't bring himself to sit down. He stood next to the window, looking out at the overcast and snow-covered landscape.

"There are three ski patrol crews on the mountain, with four search and rescue dogs," the Sheriff explained. "So far, all they've recovered is the boy's skis and poles, which they're using to give the dogs a scent to follow."

"What about roadblocks?" Bruce asked, turning to face the sheriff.

"We have one on the main road, Mr. Wayne, but there are a number of smaller roads and private drives off the main road in this area. It's a curse and a fortune that the snow is so heavy — mobility is difficult for everyone."

"Mr. Wayne, if this is a kidnapping, shouldn't the FBI be notified?" asked Dean Hartwell.

Bruce shook his head. "The closest field office is in Burlington, which is a two-hour drive even in good weather."

There was a knock at the door, and Dean Hartwell, who was the closest to the door, opened it. The desk concierge nodded at the educator and came into the room, handing an envelope to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, one of the employees found this on a table in the lobby. No one knows how long it's been there."

Bruce opened the envelope and looked inside. His throat tightened and his expression became more stone-like. Alfred suddenly appeared next to him as Bruce poured the contents of the envelope out onto a table. Alfred barely suppressed a gasp as he saw the blood-stained instant photo and the wisps of dark hair.

* * *

Gonzo recognized Sadie's description of the man who tipped her generously to identify Dick Grayson as the same man he had bumped into at the coffee kiosk near the half-pipe course. Could that guy have been scoping out Dick as he snow-boarded the course? Gonzo took Sadie by the shoulders.

"You've got to go tell the cops, Sadie. If that guy snatched the Grayson kid and you can identify him that makes you a witness and a loose end. C'mon, I'll go with you."

The pair of hotel employees left the lounge and headed for the manager's office. Out of the corner of his eye, Gonzo thought he spotted the man with the glasses sitting at the far end of the lobby. When they were out of sight, Gonzo pushed Sadie in the direction of the office. "Go on, Sadie. I have to check something out. Talk to Dick's father. Tell him what you know!"

The bellman reached the lobby just as the man with the frameless eyeglasses entered the elevator. Gonzo headed for the service stairs, eyeing the readout above the elevator doors. It stopped on the fourth floor. Gonzo burst into the stairwell and took the steps two at a time to the fourth floor. He carefully opened the door and looked into the empty corridor. He stepped out of the stairwell and walked to a cross-corridor, pulling back quickly at the sight of his target. Gonzo peered around the corner. The man stopped at one of the rooms and entered it.

* * *

Bruce listened to the waitress' tale, his rage building. Before he could question her himself, his cell phone beeped.

"Excuse me, I'll take this outside," he said, and left the office and walked down the hall, seeking a quiet spot.

"Jason Bard, here, Mr. Wayne. It took a little time, but I've got your information. Althorp Mining and Materials is a shadow subsidiary of LexCorp, through some roundabout channels. It's pretty indirect, but there's definitely a Luthor connection."

"That tells me what I need to know, Bard. Thank you for the quick work." Bruce closed his phone with a snap, and with jaws clenched, slammed his fist into a wall, smashing through the drywall.

* * *

Gonzo ran lightly down the hall until he saw the man's room number, then he dashed back to the stairs, slid down the handrails to save time, and ran for the manager's office. At the far end of the corridor, Gonzo saw Dick's father punch a hole in the wall. 

"Whoa," he said under his breath, awed by the big man's strength and rage. Undeterred, though, Gonzo walked up to the man.

"Yo, Dick's Dad, sir, can I talk to you?"

Bruce turned to look at the young man, intrigued that he knew Dick by name. "What is it? Do you have any information about Dick?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. I sent Sadie in there to tell what she knew about this guy who was stalking Dickster. I saw the same dude near the half-pipe yesterday when Dick was freestyling. I just saw the guy, and followed him to his room." 

Bruce laid a heavy hand on Gonzo's shoulder. "Take me there."

* * *

Carson stood next to the French doors leading out to the room's balcony, speaking into his cell phone. "I planted the envelope, Miss M., and it's been found and taken to the manager. Bruce Wayne himself is here, though. I though you said he was out of the country?"

Before the man got a reply to his inquiry, the door to his room shattered, and a bull of a man came barreling down on him.

Bruce smashed through the door with a single kick and went for the surprised occupant.

"That's the guy, Mr. Wayne," Gonzo called out.

Carson, in his panic, dropped his cell phone and fled to the balcony. Realizing the futility of his move, since he was four stories up, he wheeled and pulled out a small pistol.

Bruce grabbed Carson's gun-arm, twisting it until it snapped. The man's scream was choked off by Bruce's other hand grabbing him by the throat. As the gun clattered harmlessly to the floor, Bruce hoisted the struggling man over the balcony railing, holding him at arm's length by the throat.

"Where is my boy?" Bruce growled.

The man clawed at the sleeve of Bruce's heavy jacket, trying desperately to clamber back onto the balcony.

Bruce loosened his grip, and the man began to drop.

"In a cabin!" Carson screamed.

Bruce caught the man by the jacket with his fists and hauled him over the railing and back inside the room.

"Where?" Bruce demanded, slamming Carson into the wall.

"Up Dyson Drive," Carson choked.

"How many are there?" Bruce snarled.

"Three... two men... and a woman."

"Is Luthor behind this?" asked Bruce.

When Carson hesitated, Bruce slammed his fist into Carson's midsection.

Coughing, Carson sputtered, "Don't know... only contact... is the woman... M-Miss Mercy."

Awestruck, Gonzo watched the irate father extract information from the kidnapper. Dyson Drive. Gonzo recognized the area from a party he'd attended near there earlier in the season.

"Dude! I know that road! My jeep's got four-wheel-drive. I can get us through the snow, man!" he called out to Bruce.

Bruce looked over his shoulder at the excited bellman, and then turned back to Carson. Without another word, Bruce slammed a ham-heavy fist into the man's face, dropping him like a stone to the carpet.

"Let's go," said Bruce. 

* * *

tbc in part 5 


	5. Part 5 Conclusion

* * *

©December 2003  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Dick Grayson (Robin); Bruce Wayne (Batman)  
Time Frame: Dick is 14  
Disclaimer: Characters herein are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner/AOL. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these trademarked characters. Not to be archived without permission.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@cranky-dog.com  


* * *

**_Dark December _**

By SKH

* * *

  
**Part Five, Conclusion**

Once again, Dick came to, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He was still in the main room of the cabin, on the couch. Groaning more for effect than out of genuine discomfort, he sat up and looked around, immediately beginning to test his bonds. His feet were unbound, and his hands were secured behind his back with — and here, Dick almost smiled — handcuffs.

"Stay put, little boy," Mercy warned. Any monkey-business and I'll put you out again."

"I need to use the bathroom," Dick complained. "Real bad."

Mercy narrowed her eyes at the boy. It *had* been several hours since they had taken him off the mountain. "Evans! Take the kid to the bathroom. Leave the cuffs on him."

The man stepped away from the cabin window and pulled Dick up off the couch by the arms. Walking the boy out of the room, he asked Mercy, "How's he gonna piss? You want me to hold his pud for him?"

"Yeah, why don't you add child molestation to kidnapping and assault?" Dick asked loudly.

Mercy drew her gun and held it on the boy. "Cuff him in front and he can handle his own merchandise."

Dick held still while Evans unhooked one of the cuffs and refastened them in front of his body. The man pushed him down the short hall and into the bathroom.

"I can't do it while you're *watching*," Dick whined over his shoulder.

Certain the boy was secure enough in the handcuffs, Evans closed the bathroom door, leaving the boy inside the small room.

Five seconds after the door shut, Dick had the cuffs off. He turned on the lavatory tap, adding a buffer of noise while he looked around the bathroom. He really did have to go, and did so quickly, then carefully pulled aside the shower curtain. There was a small window for ventilation in the shower/tub stall. Dick quietly stepped into the tub and tested the window. It went up smoothly. Dick very carefully locked the bathroom door.

* * *

Mercy's phone beeped, and she flipped it open to answer it. "Go ahead," she said. Mercy listened for a few seconds, then she looked toward the bathroom. "He's supposed to be in Japan. We had confirmation that he was in— Carson? Carson!" Mercy slapped the phone shut, grasping the phone so hard she nearly broke it. "Damn! Evans! What's taking that kid so long?" she asked sharply.

Dick was halfway out the window when Evans began pounding on the bathroom door. "Hurry it up, kid!"

Dick hollered back, "I'm going number two!"

Evans turned the door knob, finding it locked.

"Little creep locked the door," Evans called to Mercy. Without a word, Mercy went out the door, headed for the side of the cabin.

* * *

In the waning light of day, Gonzo raced his Jeep up the snow-covered road, headed for Dyson Drive. Bruce Wayne insisted they leave immediately and not wait for the authorities. The way the big man had pounded that other guy, Gonzo figured he could hold his own with anything short of an army. Bruce Wayne wasn't just some candy-ass rich guy. The dude was freakin' Rambo! Gonzo was pretty stoked.

* * *

As Dick dropped to the ground, gunfire sounded and wood splintered above his head. Mercy wasn't using darts this time. Dick ducked around the back of the cabin. The snow was knee high and hard to run through, making a dash for the woods a losing proposition. Dick shinnied up the back porch post and flipped onto the roof of the cabin. Another bullet shattered the corner of the roof close to Dick's foot. Dick scooped up a double handful of snow, formed a snowball, and pitched it at Mercy, hitting her right between the eyes. Dick heard a thump on the other side of the roof. He climbed up the pitch and looked over the top to see Evans coming up on a ladder.

Dick leaped for the man, catching him square in the chin with his boots. Evans went back, and Dick went with him over the edge of the roof. They both landed in the soft snow — Evans on his back, knocking the wind out of him, and Dick on his feet. The second man jumped for Dick and was tossed head over heels into the snow. 

Dick grabbed the axe from the wood chopping pile and ran for the corner of the cabin. When Mercy came around it, Dick swung the axe up, striking Mercy's gun hand with the back of the axe head and sending the gun flying into the snow. Dick spun the axe around and drove the heel of the handle up into Mercy's chin, knocking her backwards with a grunt.

The second man recovered and came at Dick, picking up a porch chair to shove at the boy like a lion tamer at the circus. Dick swung and brought the axe down, driving it into the seat of the chair as the man held it above his head. Dick kicked out, catching the man hard in the crotch, sending him howling to his knees. Dick's next kick connected with the man's head, and he sailed backward across the porch.

Dick yanked the axed back, leaped off the porch, and ran for the truck. When he pulled on the door handle, it didn't budge. It was locked. Dick swung the axe and smashed the window, then reached inside to unlock the door. Before Dick could open it, however, Evans grabbed him from behind. 

The man pulled Dick back by the hair and smashed his head into the doorframe of the truck. Blinded by pain, Dick sank to his knees. Not down for the count, though, Dick drove the heel of his hand into the inside of Evans' knee, making a satisfyingly painful popping noise. As Evans fell screaming, Dick came up, driving his elbow up into Evans' gut. Dick spun and belted the man in the jaw, felling him like a tree.

Mercy looked through the snow for her gun. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a fourteen year old kid took down two of her security force with surprising skill and ingenuity. Luthor could fire her, Wayne could have her jailed, but no kid was going to get the best of her. Locating her pistol, she chambered a bullet and aimed.

Dick wiped the streaming blood away from his face with his sleeve and opened the truck door. He heard gunfire and the shot ricocheted off the roof of the truck. Dick froze, knowing that was his warning shot and that the next one could hit him. He shut the door and turned around, holding his arms out to the side as Mercy plodded through the snow toward him.

* * *

Gonzo shifted gears, climbing up the snowy, unpaved access road called Dyson Drive as fast as the Jeep would go. As soon as the Jeep hit the clearing, Bruce saw a woman aiming a gun at Dick, who was leaning against a pickup truck.

"Gun it! Aim for the woman!" Bruce ordered. 

The Jeep jumped a drift of snow and came down right at Mercy. She dove out of its way. Mercy was on her feet just as Bruce Wayne launched himself out of the Jeep. Mercy coolly pointed the gun at Dick.

"Not so fast, Mr. Wayne. Take one more step and I'll put a bullet through the boy's head."

Bruce halted, his eyes darting between Mercy's gun and Dick's bloodied face.

"Kid!" Mercy yelled. "Get over there, next to Wayne. Move it!" Mercy kept the gun on Dick as the boy crossed the yard to his guardian. As Dick moved toward Bruce and the Jeep, Mercy moved to the truck. She reached the truck and got inside, still pointing the gun at Dick. Mercy reached into her pocket for the truck keys, put them into the ignition, and started it.

Dick looked at Mercy, scowling angrily at the woman who had outwitted him. He was also angry that she was using him to immobilize Bruce, and that Bruce had to hold back because of the danger Dick was in.

Mercy knew that law enforcement was probably not far behind Bruce Wayne and that she needed an effective diversion to make good her escape. Shifting the truck into reverse, Mercy aimed skillfully and fired.

Dick sailed backward with a yelp. Bruce rushed for his ward, spotting the bright blood on his leg. Mercy spun the truck around, shoved it into gear, and hit the gas.

"Oh, that's just wack!" Gonzo shouted. He reached into his Jeep, grabbed a ski pole and hurled it at the truck, hitting it expertly in the rear tire. Despite the blowout, the truck continued down the drive, disappearing into the dusk.

Bruce took off his heavy jacket and wrapped it around Dick, wiping some of the blood away from Dick's face with the coat sleeve. He carefully lowered Dick back to the ground. "Hold on, Dick. Let me take a look."

Gonzo whistled. "Yo! Pocket knife on my key chain, man!" He tossed the keys to Bruce. 

Bruce sliced open Dick's pant leg up to his hip. At mid thigh, he saw the entry wound. Lifting Dick's leg up a bit, Bruce felt the exit wound. "It went right through, chum. I don't think it hit bone." Bruce pressed his pocket handkerchief to one of the wounds and wadded up Dick's pant leg to hold on the second wound.

Dick hissed through the pain. "I-I'm sorry, Bruce. There were only three of them... I shoulda been able to get — Owww!" Bruce grabbed Dick's hand and squeezed. He gave the boy a half-hearted half-smile, which Dick returned. No other words became necessary.

Gonzo dug through his backseat floorboard and grabbed a box. He rushed to Bruce and Dick. "Here's my first-aid kit. First time I've used it since my folks made me take it." Gonzo opened the kit and handed compresses to Bruce. 

As they dressed Dick's wounds, Gonzo asked him, "So what happened to these other two guys, Dickster? They're out of it!"

Dick gave Bruce a quick look before answering Gonzo. "Musta been that blonde. She was pretty moody. H-hey, Gonz, you're p-pretty lethal with that ski pole."

"Track and field in high school, dude," Gonzo grinned. "It was a way to meet girls."

Bruce carefully lifted Dick and carried him to the Jeep, settling him into the back seat. As Gonzo drove down the access road, Bruce called Alfred, filling him in about Dick's condition and giving him instructions for the sheriff about the man in the hotel room, the perps at the cabin, and the escaped woman.

Bruce and Gonzo saw the abandoned pickup truck where Dyson Drive intersected with the main road. There were no signs of the driver. Bruce silently vowed to find the woman, but first, his boy needed medical treatment. Bruce reached into the back seat and tucked the jacket tighter around Dick.

"M'okay, Bruce," Dick said weakly. "Don' make me look wimpy in front of my friend."

Bruce raised his eyebrows and pointed silently at the driver.

Dick nodded, giving his guardian a warning scowl before closing his eyes to doze.

* * *

While Alfred and the hotel nurse attended to Dick, Bruce met with the resort manager. "We'll be transporting Dick back to Gotham City, where our family physician can treat him," said Bruce. "But we wouldn't have gotten Dick back so quickly without the help of your employee... Gonzo."

"Gonzo? Oh, yes, Pierce," the manager said. "Bright young man. Enthusiastic."

"Yes. A company should value and reward employees so dedicated and quick-thinking," Bruce nodded.

"Eh, yes," said the manager. "In fact, we could use a new instructor for snowboarding. Growing sport, you know. We just put in the half-pipe this past summer. That's where Pierce belongs... with a raise of course. A generous raise!"

Bruce smiled his socialite smile and shook the manager's hand before going back into the hotel's infirmary. Inside the waiting room, Bruce found the bellman of the hour reading a ski magazine. Bruce sat down beside him.

"I don't think I've had a chance to thank you, Gonzo," said Bruce.

Gonzo put down the magazine and sat up straight. "Oh, no prob, Dick's-Dad," he grinned. "Your little dude in there is pretty awesome, and he's got an awesome old man."

Alfred stepped out from behind the curtain surrounding Dick's bed. "Master Dick is stable for transport, Master Bruce. Dr. Thompkins will meet us at Wayne Manor. Hotel staff have packed Master Dick's belongings and put them on the helicopter."

Gonzo got up and headed for the door. He looked back at the two men, and at the boy lying asleep in the bed beyond them. "The snow has stopped," he said. With a grin, he added, "My day off is tomorrow. Looks like I'll have a tonar day on the powder! Ciao, dudes, and Merry Christmas."

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and the hour was late. Lex Luthor had abandoned the banality of his customary social gatherings to retreat to his penthouse duplex high atop the tallest building in Metropolis. He had given his personal staff the night and next day off, save for one. In fact, Lex believed Mercy should be grateful to still have a job after the deplorable results of her most recent task. Lex had lost the Guiana project and the chance to reap billions in oil and gold.

"Mercy, I'm back," Lex called out, draping his overcoat across a chair. 

"Mercy is a little tied up at the moment, Lex."

Lex wheeled about at the sound of the voice. Bruce Wayne stepped out from behind Lex's bar, holding a freshly-made drink in each hand.

"How did you get in here?" Lex demanded.

"Why, I telephoned Superman and asked him to fly me up here," Bruce smiled. "Actually, my security people are better than your security people." Bruce looked around the penthouse with a look of arrogant disdain on his face. "And so is my interior designer. Lex, remind me to give you his name. You need it desperately."

"Before you even get started, Wayne, you'll never be able to prove anything. I have dozens of witnesses that will swear that Mercy was in Metropolis all along," Lex gloated, his voice dripping with oil.

"Is that so?" Bruce stepped closer, and appeared to hand Lex a drink. The Gotham billionaire smashed both glasses against Lex's temples, soaking the megalomaniac with liquor and blood. Bruce slammed his fist into Lex's stomach, then bashed him in the face with a left-right combination. Lex dropped to the floor, spitting blood and teeth.

"Don't ever come near my family again, Lex," Bruce said coolly. He brushed a few drops of bourbon from his suit coat, stepped over Lex, and walked out the door.

* * *

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!!"

"Wake up, Bruce! It's Christmas! Ho-ho-ho!!" Dick pounded a crutch on Bruce's bedroom door with every "Ho."

"Master Dick! It's six o'clock in the morning! Please show some decorum!" Alfred came hastily down the hallway, tying the sash of his robe.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, ALFRED!!" Dick shouted. He thumped on his crutches over to Alfred and gave the stunned major-domo a big hug before continuing on to the stair case.

"Can someone turn down the volume out here?" Bruce asked, emerging from his room. He scratched at his stubbly beard and yawned. Bruce turned to Alfred with a bewildered look on his face. "It's still dark outside, Alfred," he complained.

"As I recall, sir, you are quite fond of the dark," Alfred replied. "I suggest we continue this conversation downstairs over hot cocoa."

"Will you guys get a move-on?" Dick griped. He swung his bad leg over the massive banister, and grasping his crutches in one hand, slid down to the ground floor of Wayne Manor.

Bruce watched Dick thump away in the direction of the family room, his smile dimming to an expression of guilt and worry.

"This was too close, Alfred. I thought he'd be safe on that outing, but he wasn't. I couldn't protect him."

Alfred looked at his eldest charge, and resting a hand on Bruce's arm, he counseled, "At some point, Bruce, we must trust that what we have taught our children will be enough to get them through this world. And then we must trust our children to use that knowledge wisely." 

Bruce sighed heavily. "I suppose you're right, Alfred. Dick is one bird that can't be kept in a gilded cage."

Alfred smiled and tugged at the cuffs of his robe. "Nor could you, Master Bruce. Now, I believe we have the important business of Christmas to attend to."

Alfred and Bruce descended the stairs to the sound of Dick's favorite holiday music from the family room stereo. To Bruce's surprise, he began to feel a flicker of anticipation, and he smiled.

* * *

**_The End, and Happy Holidays_**


End file.
